


The Violinist

by Loraliah



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, V has a violin, fight me he can play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loraliah/pseuds/Loraliah
Summary: Originally posted on my Tumblr blog, literally just for the sake of having him play a violin and smuttiness.





	The Violinist

__

There was soft music in the air as you wonder around the small house the group had made into a safe haven. A need to recoup after the last demon attack was necessary, and you found yourself walking about the building while the others were resting on the upper floor.

All except for one other member of the group.

You followed the rhythm of the music as it got louder and louder, till you found the door cracked to the room it was located. Pushing it open more ever so slightly, you could catch his silhouette against the window, as the coming moonlight was cast over him.

In his hands was a violin, and the music flowing from it as he played was almost hypnotic. As you got closer, you noticed his eyes were closed as he ran the bow along the strings, letting the melody he was playing take over. It crescendoed and softened with each stanza as he continued, and you didn’t even notice you had been staring until his performance ended, and he turned to look right at you.

A slight smirk was set on his face when realization hit you that he knew you were there the entire time.

“Bach’s Chaconne,” he mentioned, holding up the violin. “It truly is one of my favorite pieces.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking between him and the instrument, as you wrapped an arm around your now-subconscious frame.

“Where did you find the violin?” you stuttered, trying to quell the awkward silence; at least, the one hovering around you.

“It was in one of the closets here,” he answered with a slight shrug. “I was amazed to find it in such a pristine condition.”

The smirk on his face widened into a grin as he looked from the violin in his hands to you.

“I could always play more for you, if you so wish.”

After a short pause, and staring far too long into his eyes, you finally spoke. “I’d enjoy that,” you admitted, trying to fight the flush threatening your cheeks. When his voice got low like that, it always made your stomach flip and your middle melt.

You had to admit, you never expected for him to be so talented with the instrument; but than again, you knew full well what those hands of his were capable of.

As if he was reading your mind, and for all you knew he was, he placed the violin down on the window seal, turning his sights back to you. He walked towards you, his hands making contact with the skin of your arms, as he pulled you close to his chest. His lips barely brushed the shell of your ear, and already you were shuttering in his hands.

“There are other ways I can play for you, if you desire, my pet,” he whispered into your ear, and you could feel that smirk against your skin as he lightly kissed the spot right bellow your lobe.

Your mouth slacked slightly, trying to swallow the dryness forming in your throat, as he took your silence as consent for him to continue. His lips danced around the line of your throat and down to your collarbone, where his nimble fingers began toying with the buttons of your shirt. As he undid each of them, he left searing kisses in his wake.

“Does my pet wish to sing for me?” he questioned, bringing his head back up to lock his lips with your own.

The kiss was coaxing, trying to draw more of your want for him out, as his hands worked your shirt off your shoulders. His teeth nipped your bottom lip, and small whimper escaped your throat. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how easy it was to turn you into putty for him.

“Such beautiful sounds you make. Such music for me,” he sighed, returning to kissing and nipping at your neck.

Your legs were feeling weak, and your core was throbbing with want now, as he slowly walked you back towards the wall behind you. When you felt the surface make contact with your back, you huffed softly, feeling him press against you in a much firmer fashion. There was an incredibly hard presence against your thigh, and you shifted your knee to rub against it.

A deep groan came against the skin of your neck, as he finally pulled away from the spot he was latched to, admiring the dark bruise already forming. His eyes locked with yours, as his fingers worked your belt and button to your jeans.

“In such a hurry?” he teased, pulling your jeans open and pressing his hand down the front of them. His cheeky grin at finding you so damp for him made you look away, trying to cover your face with your hands; but he refused to let you, his free hand gripping your chin to make you look at him.

“Do not be ashamed of your want, for mine runs just as deep,” he spoke, before pressing another searing kiss to your mouth. His tongue played with your bottom lip til he persuaded them to part, giving you a sigh of appreciation as his tongue toyed with yours.

He manged to work your jeans and underwear down your legs, letting them fall to your feet so he could lift you out of them. You were so lost in his kiss that you barely heard the clink of his belt buckle and the slow sound of his zipper, as he brought your legs to wrap around his waist.

When the tip of his cock made contact with your folds, a high moan from your throat was greeted with a deep one of his own. He rolled his hips, letting his shaft be coated in your fluid, enjoying the torturous teasing he was doing to you. The way your face was flushed with want and how your lashes fluttered when he made contact against that swollen bundled of nerves; it intoxicated him.

His teasing was going on for far longer than you wished, so you let out a soft whine.

“V…V, please. Just…just fuck me already…”

He chuckled, leaning in to place a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Such a foul mouth you tend to have,” he growled, not letting up on his hips rolling against you but never moving for his cock to enter.

Your whines grew louder as you shifted against him, trying to make him enter you; but of course, he didn’t give you the satisfaction.

“My poor pet has no patience,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “I guess I’ll ease your suffering.”

The tip of his cock finally pressed into your entrance, and your toes curled as he tormentingly slowly pushed in. You felt so full finally that it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge; but you suddenly felt his being shake against you.

“Forgive me,” he mumbled, exhaling deeply, “but I fear my torturing you has also tortured myself.”

He moved towards the nearest chair, letting himself down into it, but never letting you leave his lap. This new position pressed his cock deeper inside of you, and another high moan left your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his still leather-clad shoulders, rolling your hips against his lap. His hands gripped at your bottom, applying more force whenever you made contact with his skin.

His breathing was beginning to shallow as he could feel your walls already clenching him, and he looked up at you with that smirk once more.

“So close to the edge already,” he teased, making you still against him as he rolled his hips this time. “Let me be the one to make you fall.”

You clung to his vest front as his tip hit the inner most spot, making you see white behind your eyelids. He freed a hand to snake up into your hair, while the other moved to wrap around your waist as he continued to thrust up into you. His fingers gave the mass of hair he held a tug, exposing your neck to him, and he bit down where your pulse was.

That was all it took to sending you falling for him.

Your walls tightened and fluttered around his cock, as his name spilled like a mantra from your lips. He didn’t let up his pace against you, til you felt them become sporadic, and he stilled finally, spilling his essence within you.

Ringing in the quiet room was only your panting breathes, as you cuddled to his chest, not wishing to move from his lap.

“Your performances never cease to amaze,” you managed to choke out, and were reward with the rumble of laughter against your cheek.

“Only my muse can bring such talents from within me.”


End file.
